Skeletons in the Closet
by resilientwriter
Summary: When her father, a member of the Sons of Anarchy is killed he leaves his beloved daughter a briefcase filled with information and tasks. The father she hardly knew yet loved tries to protect her from the same fate. The first task leads her to the town of Charming, where she has to gain the trust of the Redwood Charter or she might meet her death. Can she do it?
1. Chapter 1

I had my pick of any town in the country to do my work because I was the best coroner in the nation. Yet, somehow, I ended up in Charming because my father made it his goal to make my life dull and boring. I was supposed to be in New Orleans getting plastered and enjoying Mardi gras or New York getting drunk and having a one-night stand. I was not supposed to be in the small town of Charming, California. It was my father's last wish though; I just hope he knew what he was talking about this time.

"What would you like to drink Ma'am?" A blonde perky flight attendant bared her sparkling white teeth at me as if she was one of the double mint twins. I didn't like her, not because she was pretty, because she had the nerve to call me 'Ma'am'.

"Yes I would like a scotch, neat." I clenched my teeth together and gave her a fake smile which translated to 'fuck you' in girl speak.

The flight attendant gave me a glare as he trotted away ready to give the pilot a blowjob and spit the remainder in my drink. Beside me was an empty seat, which on a long flight like this was comforting. I placed my carry on and seat belted it in nice and cozy. Looking around me to see if anyone was watching I found the coast to be clear and opened the bag quietly; inside contained all the information my father gave me to keep me safe and make sure I stayed in one piece. I wasn't sure why the same man that sent me off to boarding school and educational trips around the world would care so much about this trip. Each separate piece of information I needed was in a manila envelope labeled steps one through eight. Hearing the whistling that cleaned the blonde-haired woman's head coming towards me I put the envelopes back in the bag. She placed the drink on my tray and smiled before gliding away happy as an overdosed hooker.

I picked up the plastic cup and noticed it was not quite the right color and that my suspicion might have been right. No, I knew I was right. I put the plastic to my lips and took it down with one gulp, I figured that I have shared spit with many girls and have already had my fair share swallowing baby gravy what would the combination of the two hurt? It was only a matter of time before I would arrive at the Oakland airport. So many secrets I have to keep while I stay in the place I have only been to once before. Why did my father have to get killed before he could answer my questions? Grabbing the envelope labeled one from the bag I pushed together the metal tips and opened the flap. Pulling out the papers I saw profile sheets of the Redwood charter of the SOA and a sticky note that had two little words written in blue ink,' Introduce yourself'. My father was never a man of many words not even in death. This is going to get interesting. I just need to remember, I am just the coroner.

"We will be reaching Oakland airport in 30 minutes, so please keep seated and put your trays in the upright position before we land. _Thank you for flying with us and we hope you enjoy your trip_."


	2. Chapter 2

Staring out the window of a taxi cab I see a blur of people and places I have to get to know. San Mateo county was going to be my area of work while Redwood will be my area of interest. The taxi driver smirked at the rising fair I had to pay. I imagined myself smashing his head into the dashboard before shaking my head and coming back to reality. The cab driver pulled over in front of a house that I already knew I would hate.

"You've got to be kidding me." Peeking out of the rim of my hangover shades the view made me sober.

"Bahaha afraid so Ma'am." His missing teeth only made his smile of satisfaction incredibly insulting.

What is up with everyone calling me Ma'am? The house was a distraction that made me over pay the already outrageously annoying cab driver. Stepping out and grabbing my bags from the trunk I stared at the atrocity. It was the first of four safe houses that my father left me. That man had a sick sense of humor. Pink with green trim surrounded by animal shaped foliage and pebble stone walkways. It was the dream house to a bitter old crazy cat lady now it was all mine. It was the nightmare to the me. Got to give him credit though, it wasn't the house a the county coroner would live in. I clicked my heels up the walkway and stuck the shiny new key into the lock, pushing open the door to view the inside

"Now what do we have here?" inside Barbies dreamhouse was a housewarming gift.

Laid amoung the floor was six clean piles of cash that was the height of the coffee table. Followed by a smaller present that was in the shape a springfield armory xd, serial number scratched off and a sticky note on the handle. The sticky note was written in my father's handwrinting, it was a phone number. I hate calling people, especially strangers. I wasn't good with the living, if I was I would be a regular doctor and not a coroner. It's not like my father gave me a choice of my future neither did my mother. I mean they named me Coro Lydia Nerr it's like if they named me Candi, I would have no choice but to become a stripper.

I'm not entirely sure if I would have stayed alive this long if they hadn't planned everything out for me. I should probably make that call and get it over with. Haven't even unpacked yet and I'm already working. Pulling out the pre paid cell phone from my bra made my stomach turn at the thought of talking to another person. The dial tone waited three buzzes it was always three buzzes before someone answered.

"Name." A monotone stoic voice passed through the speaker.

"Coro, Hal's daughter." Nervous and shaky I just wanted this to go quickly.

"I'm Greg. I will be your personal assistant. I'm already paid for. What can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid I have a bit of jet lag coming from the east coast. It is a difficult task, I hope you are up to the challenge." Hearing the word assistant made me feel at ease and in power.

"Of course." Greg was not much of a talker, I liked that.

"I need you to kill a John Doe, any will do. After you have killed him I want you to put him in Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop. It has to be during the day in about a week. I want it done right. No screw ups."

" Is that all, Coro?" His voice showed no hesitation, this was going to be a beautiful relationship.

"Where can I buy a motorcycle?" A plan was forming in my mind slowly and was making its way to the surface.

"Check the garage, its done." Now he was cramping my style.

"Goodbye Greg, its been a pleasure." The dial tone was all that I allowed to reply after that.

Furniture was already placed in the house, there were no boxes only suit cases and a lot of baggage. Firming my fingers around the handles of my bags I carried them down the hallway noticing all the photoshopped pictures along the way to the back bed room. Placing them on the queen bed I unzipped the only things in the house that were actually mine. Looking in them searching for the outfit that was going ot make my very first impression to the Original Sons of Anarchy.

Finding the perfect outfit I began to get dressed. Looking at myself in the mirror I saw many things none were pretty. High heels with black t-straps were help to make me taller, skinny jeans to show off the shape of my legs, black satin button-up top to show some cleavage, and the finishing touch was my leather jacket that had pin up skeleton sewn on the back. It was the perfect impression for the M.C. It was also the perfect impression to the man I knew I had to have as soon as I saw him, a decade ago. The only time I believed in love at first sight was with that tall, dark, and handsome man.

Clicking heels till I got to the garage filled with miscellaneous and suspicious items. A shiny sparkling distracted me from the weird variety of items that surrounded me, it was a gorgeous street glide touring motorcycle that latest model. I sat on the leather seat and grasped the handles getting a feel for the bike and it was a great feeling. Breathing in everything new and exhaling all the old. Opening my lashes which coated in mascara, I got off the bike and opened the garage door ready to ride. Sitting on the bike once again I found the keys already in my motorcycle turning it and hearing it purr. Grabbing the helmet that was next to the keys on the workshop table I placed the black helmet on my messy hair. I rode out of the pink monster and headed off to Teller-Morrow where I would need some new custom adjustments to my gorgeous bike.

There it was and by god, there he was Tig Trager. He will be mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter will be based on the first episode of the first season of SOA. It is short so my apologies for the wait.**

Shutting off the engine to the motorcycle made my heart race. Wearing high heels on a motorcycle was far from safe ,but my pink palace of horror was only a few blocks away. Seeing him after all these years took my breath away and weakened my knees. He wouldn't remember me, we have never spoke before. I lifted my leg on over the side and then pulled up my skinny jeans as far as I could trying to tuck my belly in. I wasn't the model I once was, looks weren't important to the dead. Taking off the helmet was a task with my thick, messy hair getting caught everywhere. Proceeding to check my makeup in the circular side mirrors I puckered my lips and fiddled with my rat nest until I made myself into a hot mess. Gliding my way up to the garage walking past several mechanics I stood only a few feet before him, that's when my body decided to freeze up. No words were coming out of my mouth. Cleaning off a tool he soon looked at me and waited for me to say something. I couldn't. This conversation was going so much better when I played it out a month ago with one of my cadavers.

"Hey darling, can I help you?" He called me darling, not Ma'am. I'm in love, crap.

"Yes, yes you can." I nodded while hitting the palms of my hands on my thighs like a complete idiot.

"What could that be?" He smiled and laughed. I knew he was laughing at me, but I could care less.

"Umm, you see that bike over there. That's mine, I need to make some customizations to it. Th-think you can handle it?" I swallowed my shame and felt sweat dance down my back.

"It's what we do. I will have Half-Sac write down what you need done and then set you up with an estimate." I couldn't look him in the eyes directly, I stared at his lips moving and his newly shaved face.

"Umm I would prefer if you did the work on the bike, I like to know exactly who is doing the job." I don't know how to flirt, how do I not know how to flirt? Shut me up, shut me up right now.

"Sure thing, it might take longer for the job to get done." He combed his fingers through his hair as black as a crow.

"Not a problem." I looked behind me to see what was stealing his attention and saw a Jax Teller, Clay Morrow, Chibs, and Bobby taking off on bikes in the distance.

"Did you want to go see what's going on?" Flirting has ended, business has begun.

"Nah, I will find out eventually. HALF-SAC! Come and help this lady get an estimate." He yelled out still looking straight on passed my batting eyelashes and bouncing cleavage.

A young guy appeared out from the office cleaning off a chainsaw that was covered in blood. I wanted to ask ,but didn't know if I truly wanted to know the answer. Looking back at Tig I see him with his palm to his face in embarrassment. I look back at the young man that sees his mistake and then tries to explain.

"Oh, uh we had a hit in run with a deer come in-" Half Sac grew flustered and nervous just like I was a few seconds before. I hold my hand up stopping him from continuing, I proceeded to tell him the correct way to clean off a chainsaw with blood on it he starred at me in awry as did TIg. I laughed a little hysterically and proceeded to clog off towards my bike with the both of them following me. Tig stopped and spoke to Gemma, bad ass biker mom and first lady of the M.C. She was going to be my biggest threat or my biggest ally. Half Sac continued with me as I told him what I wanted done to the bike. He listed my estimate into 5 figures. It didn't take long for me to figure out Tig wasn't going to fall for me today. I filled out some paperwork then continued to walk home before being stopped by a tall deep voiced man, Happy.

"Do you need a ride home? I'll call Half-Sac." He was a gentleman considering what my father's files said. I almost accepted when I remembered the pink marshmallow peep I lived in.

"No. That's sweet of you ,but I live a few blocks away from Main st." I continued to walk as I talked hoping he would leave it be.

"Alright, no problem." He was cute ,but he wasn't my Tig.

Walking my way home I replayed all my mistakes in my head, everything went completely wrong. Why were they leaving? Clicking my heels I passed a corner store. I head on in thinking about getting some alcohol ,when in the corner a small television reports the news to customers. Telling me about why they were leaving as I tell the man behind the counter to get me a bottle of his best stuff. A fire had blown up a warehouse said to be holding guns. I now knew why. Time to gain some trust, might have to up the date on Greg to kill that John Doe. I sigh and return home with a bottle of brown alcohol and my files to go over. Sitting alone, hoping that tomorrow will turn out to be a better day.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews they are both helpful and motivating.**

Days have passed since my last screw up. I have not seen Tig, but I have kept a close eye on Jax Teller due to what Greg informed of Thursday. My files let me know everyone's past, but Greg keeps me informed on the present. Jax has had a son named Abel suffering from medical conditions due to his ex wife's addiction. Greg is supposed to kill that John Doe soon which means I do not have much longer to gather the information I will need to gain their trust.

Looking around I see bottles and TV dinners thrown into bins and files scattered in every room of the house. Sleep has been the only break from my mind replaying my embarrassing attempt to throw myself at Tig. I drag my feet down the hall to the fridge where the light slowly flickers on. Looking inside I see it is as bare as the day I moved in. I close it shut and lean against it for support. I planned it to have enough food for four days, four days was the amount of time I had before I started work as the county coroner. Today was my first day of work.

I enter the cold room after filling out papers and meeting employees. If that pink house was my home, this was my fortress. I meet my new friend a large Mexican put onto the slab, I cut him open with my scalpel and see what secrets he can confess. Several hours pass filled with constructive thoughts about both Juan Huarez age 28 and what my next move will be. Sewing him up I begin to understand where I must continue from. Skeeter was a man I contacted three months prior to my arrival in San Mateo County; he was the local cremator in the cemetery. We spoke for a while until I gave him an ultimatum; he could either go to gamblers anonymous or lose his job. Not the best choices, but it had to work. Skeeter was helping the M.C get rid of bodies and other small favors for years in return he was paid cash to put towards his debt. This had to stop they needed to need me.

Skeeter has been recorded at the meetings for the last three months by Greg who verifies with pictures. Greg is supposed to be investigating the burned down warehouse today. Once I get the information I will know how to play things, for now I think I should pay Skeeter a visit and congratulate him on his progress. I clean the body and tell them its ready for transport and burial. He will be buried today which is shockingly fast in this kind of situation.

Since my motorcycle is at the shop I now drive the hearse for work and the bus for personal matters. The hearse is the only place where I will allow back seat driving. I feel people's eyes penetrate the glass while staring at the hearse as if it where the Oscar Meyers mobile. Praise the dead for tinted windows though. I reach the cemetery, casket of Juan in the back. As my new employees take in the body with much effort, I walk into the crematory where I find the clumsy and dopey, Skeeter. He is staring at charts and looking confused as if he had made a mistake.

"Once their ashes the family can't identify them, mistakes can't be proven." I interrupt his thinking process.

"Oh , I didn't know you were coming. I was just looking at today's attendance sheet." I glide my fingers across soot on tabletops and walls.

"I decided to cross the river Styx and drop off some more attendees for you." From my long jacket, I pull a folded folder filled with files to be filled as I look at his face.

"That's a lot to have done, when are the supposed to be finished?" He weighs them in his scarred hand.

"By the end of today." I turn my back to him as I begin to walk out.

"But,-"

" I knew you could do it. I will be back soon to check up on you." This job gave me back my mojo; poor Skeeter never stood a chance.

I fill out more firms confirming my drop off as I hear loud vehicles, motorcycles. The Sons of Anarchy are here at the cemetery, they cannot see me. I walk on passed massive gravestones until I reach of mausoleum and I lean against the wall. I pull my phone from my coat pocket after having a mini heart attack that it was not in its usual place. I press the buttons until it begins to dial. Three rings until I hear Greg and his reassuring monotone, I got this voice.

"I was just about to call you. Found some interesting things out." There was a long pause.

"Well?!" He finally continues.

"It seems that the warehouse is being investigated by Deputy Hale who will be taking over for the acting chief now. He knows of two women burned to death has not been made public information. Tig has seemed stressed out and the club has been very close knit since it has happened. I think they are trying to cover up their tracks." Greg gave me all I needed to know that I was going to be in soon enough.

"Forget about that John Doe for now. I think I have found an opening." Seeing the M.C ride away satisfied.

"I already had one picked out though." The most emotion I have ever heard from him yet.

"Keep tabs on the Scot, I'm going to watch on the prospect for a bit." I hang up before he can answer, he must find that really annoying by now; maybe that is why I'm so amused by it.

I put the cell phone away and find the prospect digging up a grave, one that was my work. Mr. Juan Huarez, which meant they had found another way to get Skeeter to help them. Clever boys. I wonder what they will do with him. I know that he will just end up on my slab again. This gives me a chance to cover for them which will give me my in. I return to work at the morgue as several hours pass. Greg calls me and tells me that Skeeter has another passion, for a blonde woman that is a crow eater. That is how they did it. Should have thought about it. Too late now. I continue on work until my shift is over and I head home where I lay asleep. Until my phone rings, again this time not the pre paid, but the house phone. I hold it to my ear and say hello.

"Ms. Nerr I'm sorry to bother you, but we have a situation in Lodi we need your assistance with." A very nervous guy replied.

"Okay, what seems to be the situation?" It cannot be anything I have not seen before.

"There was a fight in a liquor store and there was a shooting." Oh no that is a situation however will I be able to handle such horror?

"Somebody got shot, so I have to drive all the way down to Lodi to verify something I see every day?" My talents are truly being wasted here. I say I will drive then I realize I would have to take a taxi. The last taxi I took was here, that did not turn out so great.

"No one was shot; the shooter was killed by the store owner with an axe…to the head." You could hear the man on the phone repulsed by the sight. How delightful? I promise that I will buy all my expensive alcohol from the butchering shop owner from now on. He made my day.

I head on out not knowing that what I would find would be so valuable to my agenda.

**A/N: Next chapter will be put up on 1/27/13 sometime. This chapter was made from the plot of season 1 episode two.**


	5. Chapter 5

I empty out my purse in the back of a taxi trying to find smaller bills to pay him with. Crumpled dead presidents accumulate in my hands as I give them to the tired driver one handful at a time. The cash was the making of change from my purchases of beer and liquor. Replacing the insides of my purse like a surgery I head on out of the taxi with my purse dangling on my forearm and my coroner jumpsuit zipped up. Looking around for my supplies I see a nerdy fellow holding a duffle bag stating it was the property of Lodi.

I sighed and moved on forward to meet my certain unpleasant encounter with the geek. He was so anxious and always trailed off in thought. He said a lot of things while I got the duffle bag from his death grip, but I couldn't decipher any of it. I walk past him and into the mini mart eager to see the crime scene. Flashing my I.D card here and there, I finally see the big bad wolf with the axe in his skull. The nerdy guy takes samples from around the store as police take photos of the deceased.

Snapping the gloves on was like hearing the curtains rise in a Broadway show. It was my time to shine. I may not be able to gain the trust of the M.C but I can gain the respect from my peers. Within a half an hour of stepping on site I have everything I need and they can move the body into the van. Shiny black shoes greet me as I pack of my things once again. Raising my head I meet the owner of the shoes a detective that is way too attractive to be in this profession. He smiles as I put my guard up.

"I'm detective Haul. Is there anything you need to know about the scene for your research?" He was kind, which just proved that he was not made for this profession.

"You must be new. Dectectives don't help coroners unless they need something from us. Just write up your report and send it to my office." My guard was up and loaded.

" It's that obvious? I will have that report to you tomorrow." He held a cup of coffee in one hand and scratched his head with the other.

"Good." I felt like I just kicked a puppy by the look he was giving the ground.

I begin to walk away with the duffle bag over my shoulder as I hear the detective yell out I never got your name. I ignored him and kept walking until I reached the van. I looked back to the store; the owner was allowed to leave long before I arrived. The woman that was present was too hysterical for questioning. Nothing in the store said robbery. I did know that the tape from the security camera was stolen. There were suits surrounding it brushing for prints. My mind was always searching for the loose end, there it was. The ATM machine camera, it was rare to be checked because it lacked proof. It did show you who came near the front of the store between the time of the shooting and the axing. Greg will get me that tape and I can decide if Mayans had anything to do with it, if they did, I could send a good portion of them away giving me some credit.

The geeky assistant stands next to me staring at what I stare at. He stood the same way I stood. He was trying to be me, he reminded me of when I was a little girl and I tried to wear my mother's heels. I remember falling repeatedly because I was never ready and when I finally was, it was no longer such an important thing. I smirk and turn my head to the geeky assistant who was so ready to learn everything. I threw the duffle bag into his chest and get into the passenger side as he coughs and tries to regain his breath. I'm just the coroner. I can't be their friend, I have to be smarter than that. My reflection in the side view mirror shows a woman that I can't afford to get to know. A woman that cares too much about those with beating hearts. I send a text to Greg telling him what he needs to do. The geeky guy jumps in the car and starts the engine. We drive off and into a place I can be at home at, the morgue.


End file.
